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Monday, October 1, 2012

V5:Chapter Nine-Out of the Blue

Volume Five

Chapter Nine

Out of the Blue

In which Dodger gets
an earful and an eyeful

It was Dodger’s fullest intention to march right up to
Michael’s front door, knock and demand that Miss Lelanea return to the camp,
where he could perform his duties of keeping her safe from harm’s way. Or drag
her back to the camp kicking and screaming if he had to. There, he would group
the crew, explain how things were going to be from now on, and that would be
that.

But the instant he heard the tinkle of her musical laughter,
this dutiful intention melted into a jealous ire. Instead of barging in, he
snuck up to the house. Instead of banging on the door, he peered over an open
windowsill. Instead of demanding her return, he eavesdropped on their
conversation.

And he didn’t like what he heard one bit.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Lelanea said.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” Michael said. “Ched said you
don’t call on anyone.”

“He’s right. But occasionally, I’ll make an exception.”

“I’m pleased to be your exception.”

The pair laughed, and under their shared joy, Dodger ground
his teeth.

They were seated at a simple wooden table, the leftovers of
some repast spread between them on scattered plates and cups. Michael offered
her more to drink, which Lelanea refused, siting her already dizzy state. They
fell into a moment of silence, one of those natural times that come with long
conversations. In this silence, Dodger waited. He knew he should do something,
anything, everything except what he was doing. Yet he couldn’t seem to help
himself.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Michael said.

“Then ask,” Lelanea said.

Michael stood and crossed the room, coming very close to the
window beneath which Dodger hid. Thankfully, instead of looking down at the
now-crouching Dodger, the native turned his eyes up to the sliver of moon
hanging in the sky. “I’m afraid it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“After all we’ve talked about, now you’re shy?”

The big man blurted out, sort of all at once, “I’d like to
see you in the natural.”

Dodger’s heart leaped into his throat. Was the man asking
her what Dodger thought he was asking her? How dare he? Well, it was obvious
that he didn’t know Miss Lelanea at all. No one talked to her like that.

Michael turned to her again with a nod. The lad was in for
it now. There was no way the little lady would let a comment like that slide
without repercussions. Dodger eased up again to watch the coming fight.

“You know I can’t do that,” Lelanea said with an
understanding smile.

Dodger gave a small grunt of surprise. This he didn’t
expect. There was no anger in her voice. No rage in her eyes. Just a soft smile
and gentle denial.

“I do. I really do. Please. It’s been so long since I’ve
been that way with anyone-”

“Me too, but it’s not that easy. You know it’s not.”

Michael drew near to her again, standing over her, lowering
his voice to a husky whisper as he asked, “Are you afraid?”

“Of course not.”

But even Dodger could hear the fear in her answer.

“Are you worried you might give in?” Michael asked. He ran his
hands through her hair, sliding his fingers to the ends of her auburn locks.
“You claim to be in control, but are you? Or are you afraid of those primal
urges? That you’ll enjoy it too much and never want to go back?”

“Yes,” Lelanea whispered and shuddered under his touch.

A pair of matching growls rolled across the room, and the
sound of it raised the hair on the back of Dodger’s neck. There was something
base and feral in those growls. Something wild and untamed.

“Please, Lelanea,” Michael begged as he growled. “I want to
enjoy you as we are both meant to be. To run with you under the moon. Roll in
the grass. Maybe chase a deer or two. That’s all. I promise.”

Now, Dodger had been around the world and back again, and
never in all of his days of seduction and mutual satisfaction with numerous
partners had he ever heard anyone describe the act of making love with such
colorful euphemisms. He knew it wasn’t the native blood controlling the lad’s
tongue, because Dodger had experienced a tribal lover once before—the gorgeous
daughter of a chieftain, with eyes of chestnut and skin so deep and dark that
Dodger’s flesh looked fish-belly white when pressed against hers.

“I can’t,” Lelanea whispered. “I would love nothing more
than to stay here and be … like that. But I can’t. I have responsibilities.
Hieronymus needs me.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped. “I understand.” With his words,
the tension of the moment—both sexual and feral—snapped, rebounded and relaxed.

“Thank you,” Lelanea said. “Both for the offer and for
understanding.”

“You can’t blame me for trying,” Michael said.

“No. And I won’t.” Lelanea cleared her throat as she stood.
“I should probably be getting back.”

“You can’t stay a bit longer?”

“No. If I know Dodger, he’s tearing the camp apart looking
for me.”

“Then you two are
together?”

Dodger clung to that question, between heartbeats, hungry
for her answer.

“No,” she said, almost embarrassingly quickly, following
this with her musical laugh. “My word, no. No, no, no, no.”

Beneath her plethora of denials, Dodger closed his eyes in
defeat. It was a question he was hoping to ask her, and to hear the answer in
this manner made him nauseated with shame. There was no use hanging back in the
shadows. He was man enough to admit when he was beat. And the native certainly
beat him to her heart.

Until she spoke again, saying something that lit his world
with joy.

“At least not yet,” she said.

Michael chuckled. “So there is hope for love?”

“Love? I’m not in the market for love right now. But if I
ever am, he’s at the top of my list.”

Hosannas and hallelujahs! Dodger almost cut a flip and
shouted and danced and sang. Almost. First he had to sneak away from the window
before they caught him peeping like some jealous little boy. Just as he was prepared
to slip away, the distinct sound of an approaching horse reached his ears.
Dodger crouched low into the shadows of the house as the horse raced almost
atop the gate before drawing to a whinnying stop. The rider dismounted and ran
up to the porch. There, a man with hair almost as red as his rage pounded on
the door, screaming for the owner of the house to come outside.